


Black Ice and Blue Bums

by EventHorizon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Hazards of Winter, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Shoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/pseuds/EventHorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock does not understand the importance of winter footwear...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Ice and Blue Bums

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to post this tiny thing, but why not spread the misery of winter as far and wide as I can...

      “You’re wearing the wrong shoes.”

      “Really?   You are wearing a brown jumper, tan shirt, brown trousers and brown shoes.  You resemble a tree branch without the benefit of a scattering of green leaves or the bright red of a songbird to interrupt your mind-crippling monotony.  I rather think the giving of fashion advice is something you had best avoid for all our sakes.”

      “Poncy bastard.  I meant, you’re wearing those upscale things you like that have no tread whatsoever.  Haven’t you looked outside at all today?  Checked the weather?”

      “The weather is not relevant to the work, unless it has direct bearing on the contamination of evidence.”

      “Fine.  Then don’t blame me.”

When John used small phrases, they always had larger meanings.

      “Explain.”

      “Sorry, forgot what I was thinking.”

      “Fine. Then don’t blame me.”

When Sherlock used small phrases, they always had dire meanings.

      “Keep your hands to yourself, Sherlock.”

      “I have no intention of using my hands for anything.  However my body is composed of parts other than hands and I have well-developed control over each one.”

Not something John could argue with, normally to his great delight.  Normally…

      “Ok, you win.  Snow + rain + freezing temperatures = ice.  Lots of ice.  And those shiny shoes of yours aren’t going to help you get around, unless you want to go skating.”

      “The level of polish is not relevant to the coefficient of friction between the sole of my shoes and the underlying ice.”

      “No, but the fact that the bottom of your shoes is as slick as the top does.  Now go put on something that’s got some grip.”

      “But… I like these shoes.”

      “And I’m sure they like you.”

      “They are an acceptable choice for the rest of the garments I am wearing.”

      “Yeah, they look very sharp.”

      “Then you see my point.”

      “The one on the top of your head?  Yes.  It’s looking very sharp, too.”

      “We have discussed your attempts at humor, John.”

      “And I laughed the whole time, so I guess we sorted things out nicely.  Look Sherlock, you want to leave the flat and trod around the city in shoes that aren’t meant for this weather.  I’m not keen on watching you pinwheel around like a giant stork that’s been startled by a firecracker, so go put on some appropriate shoes!”

      “I shall have to reconfigure the entirety of my appearance.”

      “No, just the appearance of your feet.  Go!”

      “I am now of the impression you have doubts about my agility, balance and coordination.”

      “Starting an argument won’t make the ice go away, Sherlock.”

      “If it lasts long enough, it will, for there is a little something called the sun.  You should remember it... you remind me of it with astonishing frequency whenever anyone makes mention of the solar system.”

      “I treat children with more maturity than you.  Just go slip on some suitable shoes!  If you want, we can carry your pretty shoes in a bag with us and you can put them on if we have to go indoors and interact with the fashionable crowd.”

      “I will not be seen walking around London in some ridiculous boots with a man carrying a handbag filled with expensive shoes.”

      “There’s nothing wrong with a manpurse.”

A horrified Sherlock was a sight to behold.

      “That word will never pass between your lips again.”

      “Then go put on some proper shoes and I’ll delete in from my mind palace.”

      “You do not have a mind palace, John.”

      “Sure I do.  It’s a quaint little tea shop out in the country.  Lovely place, lots of flowers.”

      “You are attempting to distract me, but you shall have no success.  We are leaving.  I am not exchanging my footwear.  You are not carrying any form of satchel.”

Pursed lips, narrowed eyes, hands on hips, tantrum threatening… could describe a 4-year old boy or Sherlock Holmes with equal accuracy.

      “Fine!  But, remember… don’t blame me.”

      “Repetition of conversation is the sign of a depleted mind.”

      “My tea shop will thrive nonetheless.  We only use fresh milk.”

__________

      “Sherlock!  Where the hell are you?  I’ve been calling all day!  We’ve got a case and… why are you lying on your stomach with a pillow under your… front with your bum in the air?  Oh christ, I walked in on something, didn’t I?  Sorry, lad… forget I was even here…”

      “Lestrade!  Do not take one more step.  A case?  There’s a case?  JOHN!  You told me Lestrade didn’t have a case for me!”

      “Yeah… I lied.  You’re not going anywhere for a day or two until your coccyx heals so forget about any cases for the time being.”

      “I’m perfectly fine!  Just… someone help me up!”

One thing Lestrade could always count on… a visit to the flat was never boring.


End file.
